


put away the groceries for me (is my love language)

by Quillium



Category: Hawkeye (Comics), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:07:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28308756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quillium/pseuds/Quillium
Summary: “Clint, put away the groceries for me.” Phil kicks his boots into the closet and changes into his slippers, rubber barbie slippers that someone almost definitely gave him as a joke gift that Phil unironically decided to love.“Yes, mom, I love you, too.” Clint rolls off the couch and moves to put them away. “Did you get my cookies?”OR: The domestic life of Phil Coulson, Natasha Romanov, and Clint Barton, who feels that he doesn't quite deserve this love, but is learning to accept it all the same.
Relationships: Clint Barton/Phil Coulson/Natasha Romanov
Comments: 5
Kudos: 16





	put away the groceries for me (is my love language)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CaffeineDammit](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaffeineDammit/gifts).



> It is just very important to me that you acknowledge this as polyro ot3, thank you, that is all.
> 
> (That's not all. Remember to look after your health and take care of yourselves! Yes, other things are important, but you must also be kind to yourself and look after yourself, yeah? Failure is momentary and whatever's bad right now will pass. But the future will be kind to you, I promise, so please be kind to yourself. Drink some water, eat something, and sleep when you can, love y'all.)

“Do you ever,” Clint asks quietly, holding his hand up to the ceiling to block the light, “Think it might be nicer if you just stopped… existing in people’s lives? Not ceasing to live but just… quietly vanishing from people’s lives, withdrawing from society.”

“How dramatic,” Nat laughs from the kitchen, watching the water in the kettle boil, two cups full of hot chocolate powder at the ready. “What brought this on?”

Suddenly feeling that his words were ridiculously childlike, Clint mumbles, “Nothing.”

Nat frowns at the kettle, as though willing it to finish its work faster, and says, “Don’t be stupid. Just tell me. I was being inconsiderate, calling you dramatic.”

“It is dramatic. You can’t fault yourself for honesty.”

Nat tosses him a wry smile, a quick, sly twist of the lips. “I think we’ve both found that I can fault myself for many things, very few of which are actually my fault, if even worthy of blame.”

Clint watches her through the crack between the wall and the island.

Nat is good at hiding herself, even when she doesn’t intend to.

Clint thinks he might like that part of her--he sure appreciates it, when they’re sent out to work together. Another part of him finds it a bit sad--though he couldn’t explain why, if asked.

(He just doesn’t like the idea of Nat--vibrant, cheerful Nat, who loves colourful things and bad movies and street food--always shrinking, trying so hard to be perfect and redeem herself for a childhood that  _ she  _ was victim to, though she refuses to listen to reason.)

“It’s nothing,” Clint covers his face. 

“Clint--”

“It’s nothing,” he repeats, softly, careful not to raise his voice, because Nat doesn’t like people raising their voices and Clint is trying so, so hard to be someone who’s safe for Nat (even though he’s utter shit at it and always finds  _ some _ way to screw up).

Nat also falls silent.

And Clint knows this is his fault,  _ somehow _ , but he can’t exactly parse through the reason.

The door clicks open, Phil shifts into their apartment with a bag of groceries, sighs when he sees Clint, and asks, “What’s wrong this time?”

“Nothing,” Nat sighs.

“Nothing!” Clint agrees, pouting as childishly as he can to keep Phil from seeing through them.

Not that it works. It never does, with Phil--he’s perfect like that.

“Clint, put away the groceries for me.” Phil kicks his boots into the closet and changes into his slippers, rubber barbie slippers that someone almost definitely gave him as a joke gift that Phil unironically decided to love.

“Yes, mom, I love you, too.” Clint rolls off the couch and moves to put them away. “Did you get my cookies?”

“You’re literally sifting through the bags,” Nat points out. The water finally boils, and the kettle turns itself off with a neat  _ click _ .

“Have you considered: I’m an idiot.”

“I’m glad you’re self aware, at least.”

“Hey!”

“You were the one who called yourself an idiot, it wasn’t me!”

“Phil, you seeing this? Nat is so mean to me, she hates me.”

“There, there, children,” the corners of Phil’s lips twitch as he suppresses a smile. “One of those mugs of hot chocolate better be for me, ‘tasha.”

“Clint, you can go without hot chocolate, right?”

“This is discrimination,” Clint says, loudly.

“Poor baby,” Nat coos, and, because she is a perfect and lovely human being who has Clint’s whole heart, gets up to get a third mug and fills that with a new packet of hot chocolate powder for Phil, rather than sacrifice Clint’s precious cup.

He loves her so much.

“Nat,” Clint says, putting peppers in the fridge, “I love you so much.”

Nat flips her hair over her shoulder and smirks, “I know,” but ducks her head to hide a pleased little smile, all the same.

Clint loves her so much. More than he can properly deal with, honestly.

He finishes putting the groceries away, and moves to lie on Phil who, evil, evil man that he is, has lied down on the entire couch and thus left no room for poor Clint, who just worked so hard to put away all their food.

“Do you ever think,” Clint mumbles into the crook of Phil’s neck, knowing that both Phil and Nat can hear him perfectly well, “that in the end, by existing in people’s lives, you just might hurt them more?”

He can see the lie on Nat’s face as she thinks about saying  _ no _ .

Then she says, quietly, “All the time,” and turns away to stir the water into the hot chocolate mix.

Clint laughs, and buries his face in Phil’s shoulder. “Yeah,” he mumbles. “I suppose it’s not uncommon to feel that way.”

“No,” Phil runs a thumb over the back of Clint’s neck, “Not uncommon at all. But still very untrue. I am every ounce grateful to have known you.”

“Sap.”

“It’s only the truth.”

“I know,” Clint says softly. 

(And he holds this in his chest, doesn’t say it out loud because he knows how much those words would hurt Phil but--part of him thinks that’s a mistake. 

That one day will come, where Phill will be hurt and in pain and say he’s grateful to have known Clint even though all Clint brought was suffering and pain.)

Phil stretches out a hand. Clint feels the movement, rather than seeing. “Come here, ‘tasha.”

The muted  _ thud _ of Nat putting down her hot chocolate, and then her upper body half folded over Clint and Phil like some sandwich with only half the bread put on.

“Do you think it’s enough?” Nat asks into the curve of Clint’s shoulder, her breath light as a feather. “This happiness.”

( _ Do you think this moment _ , she means,  _ is worth all the pain that will come for us. _

_ Is loving me _ , she means,  _ worth the ways I will hurt you? That you will hate yourself, for feeling that you failed me? Is this moment, with me, worth the pain of a future without me? _ )

“Of course,” Clint says.

The sky is blue. The earth is solid. This moment here is worth having.

If losing something hurts you, that only means it was important. To never feel pain is to never have lived.

“I think I get it now,”  _ how loved I am _ . 

Clint closes his eyes and cherishes this moment.

**Author's Note:**

> Please take this time to do one kind thing for yourself. It can be Big like Finally Showering or cleaning your room, or smaller like standing up to stretch a bit and then sitting back down after like 5 seconds. That's okay. You're doing so, so great, and I'm so proud of you. 
> 
> (Also: Find me on tumblr @quilliumwrites to talk to me about fandom stuff, life stuff, whatever you want! No pressure either way, of course, but talking about ot3's with other people is always so lovely, and I accept requests <3)


End file.
